The Prodigal Son (36 page)

“They did that on purpose, they wanted him to die like that,” Alex said once it was over. He didn’t reply, intent on avoiding the man that was crossing the square in their direction. Too late; Wyndham had seen them and lengthened his stride.

“Matthew! Mrs Graham,” Oliver was somewhat out of breath when he caught up with them. “A word?”

“Major Wyndham,” Matthew bowed.

Alex curtsied and averted her eyes from the major. “I need some buttons and a new set of shears,” she said, disengaging her arm from Matthew’s grip. “See you at the stables, okay?” He nodded and she stretched her lips into a semblance of a polite smile in the direction of the major before walking off.

“I should have said this earlier,” Oliver said as he fell into step with Matthew. “I’m sorry about your little girl. Four, was she?”

“Aye.” Near on five months in the ground, his little lass, and still it hurt just to think her name.

“Mayhap it will console the mother to have a new child to busy herself with,” Oliver continued with a nod in the direction in which Alex had disappeared.

Matthew looked at him. “You think? Have you any experience of losing a bairn?”

Oliver shook his head. “Thank the Lord I don’t,” he said with a passion that made Matthew look at him with interest. Then he recalled that Wyndham only had the one child, and a sickly one at that.

“You got my warning?” Oliver asked in a low voice once they had been served their beers.

Matthew nodded. Always a bit too late, these warnings, for him to save any but himself, and the execution witnessed today was the fall out of a massive attack on a conventicle around Whitsun.

Fortunately, most of the participants had escaped into the waterlogged moss, but the preacher had been cornered, defended by the man who had died with him. He waited; if Oliver were to warn him of attending the conventicle planned for tomorrow then he had the final proof he needed. Three different dates to three different people, Sandy and Matthew had decided, and depending on what Matthew heard back they’d know who it was that was feeding the authorities far too much and far too accurate information.

“Did you enjoy it?” Matthew asked, throwing his head in the direction of the gallows where the bodies still hung, revolving on their ropes. “The fifth preacher to hang in as many weeks. You must be building up quite the reputation with the powers that be.” Oliver flushed, the damaged side of his face shading into a dark plum.

“They were condemned in due course, I couldn’t very well intercede at the trials.”

“Nay, of course not; in principle, you can do nothing once you’ve apprehended them, so the easy solution to your moral dilemma would be not to apprehend any.” He regarded Oliver quizzically. “You said that at heart you were still the same lad I once knew and loved, a lad with ideals and convictions. I must say you hide it well.”

“My hands are tied,” Oliver retorted with an edge.

“Oh, aye, I imagine they are. By the army or by my brother?”

Oliver went a deathly white. “Your brother?” he said, eyes darting all over the place.

“Aye, Luke Graham. You know him, don’t you?”

“Is Luke Graham your brother?” Oliver widened his eyes to the point of looking inane. “I would never have made the connection. You’re very different from each other.”

“Thank you, I take that as a compliment.”

He wanted to sink his fist into Oliver’s face, but that would end with him being carted off somewhere and he wasn’t going to do anything that would place him at the mercy of this man. Instead he changed the subject, wondering if there had been any further development in the Dutch war, laughing silently when Oliver’s face clouded. The Medway debacle was a raw wound, only weeks in the past, and to have the proud battleship
HMS Royal Charles
towed back to the Netherlands by the Dutch Navy rankled in the English minds.

“I’d stay home tomorrow,” Oliver said in passing as they made their farewells. “Preferably with a reliable witness or two.”

“Reliable?” Matthew twisted his mouth. “And that would, per definition, not be a Scot.”

Oliver shrugged. “Just stay home.”

He bowed and turned into the alley leading back to his quarters. Matthew watched him until he disappeared out of sight. Well, he had his answer; Tom Brown. Sandy wasn’t going to like it, not one bit. Nor would the soldiers, riding all that way on the morrow only to find there was no meeting. He whistled softly to himself as he made his way back to the stables.

“Tom Brown? Are you sure?” Alex sounded disbelieving.

“Aye.” He increased the pressure of his legs around Ham’s flanks, making the stallion break out in a jarring trot.

“Ouuf,” Alex protested. “This is very uncomfortable.”

Matthew urged the horse into a canter instead, and for some minutes they submerged themselves in the primitive joy of speed, Alex whooping like a bairn as the road disappeared beneath them in huge bounds.

“What will happen to Tom and his wife?” Alex asked once they were back to a sedate walk.

“I don’t know. But we’ll have it out with them tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? And must you take part? It could be dangerous.”

“I must,” he said. “As to dangerous, I think not. The soldiers will be elsewhere.” But he wasn’t looking forward to it, condemning one of their own for treason.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” she asked.

“Nay, which is why Ian has spent all day watching the comings and goings at the Brown farm.”

“Ian?” Alex’ voice soared into a treble. “But he’s a boy!”

Matthew shrugged. “He is nigh on thirteen, Alex, more a man than a lad.” And capable, as he had proved already back in October when Ian helped save him. He stretched with pride.

They rode in comfortable silence for the last miles, with Ham ambling along more or less on his own. The spare line of trees that bordered the road seemed to pant in the heat, leaves hanging stiff with dust. Matthew threw an irritated look at the clear sky; a soft, long summer rain, that was what his crops needed, and mayhap it would clear the heavy air somewhat.

“Every time I come back home I look for her,” Alex said as Ham walked down the last slope. “I see Mark, Jacob, little Daniel and there’s a gap, and I always look, but she’s never there.”

“Aye, I do too. And every time I get close to the pig pen I expect to see her there.”

“What was it with her and pigs?” Alex laughed into his back. “From the moment she could walk it was the pigs. Especially the sow.”

“Kindred souls?” Matthew suggested, laughing as well. “Pigs are intelligent creatures, and mayhap Rachel felt conversing them was somewhat more fulfilling than attempting a discussion with her brothers.”

“Matthew!” Alex slapped his arm. “It makes our boys sound like imbeciles.”

“Sandy will be coming by late tonight,” Matthew said as he helped her off the horse. “He’ll be walking in along the river. Do you want to come with me to meet with him?”

“Is it safe?”

Matthew gave her an exasperated look. “Safe enough that I ask my pregnant wife along.”

“Well then I suppose the answer is yes.” She took his hand and placed it against her middle. “I bet you it’s a boy.”

Matthew wouldn’t have it. “A lass, and so far I have been right each time.”

“Huh; fifty-fifty chance.” But he could see she hoped he was right this time as well.

Her hand in his was slippery with nerves when they made their way through the dusky summer night. She was barefoot, as was he and they splashed into the shallows and waded in silence, with Alex waving her free hand at the night bugs that fluttered around her face.

Bats swooped down in silent arcs, cutting just in front of them, and from behind them came the distant sound of a neighing horse, making Alex flinch. Matthew steadied her and brought her to a stop. There was a largish flat stone to the side and it took some time for Alex to make out that the dark shape on top of it was Sandy, not another stone.

Sandy greeted them in a low voice, and for the coming half-hour they sat and talked, their voices inaudible to anyone not standing beside them.

Ian had come back just before they set off, to eat and report, and was already making his way back to his stake out. From what Alex could gather, his news had been unwelcome. There had been a number of sightings of soldiers during the day, soldiers that had dropped in two by two and simply not ridden off. According to Ian’s calculations at least a dozen soldiers were hidden in the outhouses of the Brown farm, and Sandy and Matthew agreed that it was an elegantly sprung trap. From that first written warning to Matthew, to the repeated verbal warnings over the last few months, the intention had been to make Matthew and Sandy identify the traitor – and come after him.

“Like bait.” Sandy mimed a mouse trap clapping shut.

“But that would mean they know tomorrow’s meeting is a hoax.” Alex said.

“Not necessarily,” Sandy said. “But they know Matthew isn’t a fool, and this is the sixth – no, seventh – time that intelligence has been leaked that has been known to a limited few, of which Brown is one.”

“So what will you do?” Alex asked.

Sandy and Matthew looked at each other. “Nothing,” they chorused.

“At least not tomorrow,” Sandy said. “It’s their son; one of the Brown boys was captured at that conventicle last August – the one where we were nearly caught. The lad was brought home to his stunned parents, thrown hog tied in front of a dragoon, and now he’s kept alive only as long as his parents cooperate.”

“They won’t let him live anyway,” Matthew said, sending a pebble to land with a dull splash in the water.

“Nay of course not. He stabbed a soldier, the wee daftie. But for now they hope, aye? Major Wyndham is good at spinning a tale of potential salvation.”

“How do you know all this?” Alex asked.

Sandy tapped his nose. “One piece here, the other piece there.”

Sandy and Matthew moved on to talk of other things while she leaned back on her arms, thinking that this would make quite a nice spot for a daytime picnic, secluded and shaded as it was. Very secluded, she thought, throwing a look up the slope. Something snagged her eye. She squinted, trying to focus. There; a flash of white in all the gloom and it was moving towards them.

There was a series of sharp cracks from further up the slope, something came crashing through the vegetation. Horses! Soldiers, oh my God, several soldiers. Matthew and Sandy acted so fast that Alex’ vision blurred, and by the time the three horses splashed into the water around them all that was to be seen was Alex and Matthew, intimately entwined. Alex shrieked and pushed at Matthew, smoothing down skirts and retying her shift over her bared breasts. The lieutenant looked from one to the other, small eyes narrowed into suspicious slits.

“What are you doing here?”

“I would think that was pretty obvious,” Alex said, “and we were having a lovely time, thank you very much, until you decided to scare us senseless.”

The officer raised his brows. Well; he did have a point. Who in their right mind would make love on a cold stone surrounded by a cloud of midgets?

“Where is he?” The lieutenant asked, riding his horse as close to the flat stone as he could.

“Who?” Matthew did his best innocent look, eyes very round.

“That damned Peden! One of my men saw him crossing the moss towards your place.”

Matthew made a big show of scanning the rock and the surrounding shrubs.

“Not here. Personally I prefer not to have a minister close by when I’m swiving my wife.”

One of the mounted men snickered, making the lieutenant glare at him before turning back to Matthew.

“One day…” he hissed, spitting with precision at Matthew’s feet. He rose in his stirrups, staring at the undergrowth. With a curse he spurred his horse up the steep bank and disappeared. A couple of minutes later his men had dropped out of sight and Alex unclenched her hands from her skirt.

Sandy reappeared so abruptly that Alex gasped. She raised her eyes to the tree that hung above them.

“You’re some kind of monkey?”

“Aye,” Sandy grinned.

Alex looked from him to Matthew, seeing the exhilaration of one mirrored in the other and was blindingly angry with both for finding anything amusing in a situation that could have ended in a catastrophe. She backed away, plunged into the water and began to run.

“Alex,” Matthew was beside her in an instant, his arm around her waist. “Hush, lass, it went alright.”

“But it could have gone awfully wrong,” she said.

Matthew drew them both to a stop. “Nay it couldn’t, I told you; I don’t take risks. The slope is littered with dry branches and twigs, Sandy can scale that tree in his sleep, and if it came to the worst I would’ve killed them.”

“All three?” Armed men on horses? Terrible odds.

“All three,” Matthew said, and something in his voice made her shiver

Chapter 31

Ian was pale when he showed up for breakfast next morning. Over a bowl of porridge he explained that as far as he could make out there were still several soldiers on Brown’s farm. Matthew nodded, drummed his fingers against the table and turned to face Alex.

“Will you come with me to Cumnock?”

“Cumnock? Again?” She had no desire whatsoever to spend a whole day riding back and forth to a somnolent Sunday town, and anyway, what would they do there? It wasn’t as if Matthew intended to attend services at the Anglican Church, was it?

“Witnesses,” Matthew said in a low voice. “I have no intention of being set up on account of having no one to vouch for my whereabouts.”

She didn’t understand. How witnesses? “But you’re here, at home…” With me, she almost added, until she recalled that her testimony would carry no weight whatsoever in the here and now, she being nothing but an extension of her husband.

“… and the Brown farm is just down the road.” He sighed at her continued incomprehension. “Ride with me aye?” He threw a look out of the window and back at her. “It’s a beautiful day. We can pretend.”

“And the children?” Alex smoothed Jacob’s hair back from his brow and kissed him on the pale skin under his fringe.